


Overcoming Darkness

by orphan_account



Series: Grimmeverse [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Actual Murder, Aftermath of Torture, Asshole Brothers, Attempted Murder, Blood and Torture, But mostly angst, Fluff and Angst, Human Experimentation, I swear this isn't as bad as it sounds, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Morals can get fucked, Other, Past Torture, Robot Arms, Sad moments, Science, Some brotherly moments, Some not so brotherly moments, Tags May Change, Unethical Experimentation, Violence, and medicine, may not, not too graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:27:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23395507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Orion was a doctor, one of the empires most renouned. He'd made a lot of progress in furthering the empire's ability to win this war after all. But what happens when he's mixed up with the rebellion?Was it on purpose? Of course. Did he expect it to be like this? No.He'd expected death or worse, but not this. Is it really too bad though?
Relationships: Error/Dream, Error/Ink, Joy/Coal, Sans/Sans (Undertale), Sci/Nightmare, Ture/Lantern, You don't get to know who that pair is because spoilers
Series: Grimmeverse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682863
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Intercept

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly have no idea what I'm doing but I wrote out an outline for this and there's like 50 chapters and a whole lot of sadness planned.   
> Let's see how well I adhere to this.  
> Let me know what you think! I'm not gonna stop writing but it might take a long ass time.

Sunshine had barely begun to break through the treeline as they arrived at the large collection of tents, filled with supplies from food to bandages with closer inspection - or as close inspection as one could get with their hands bound and a gun pressed to their head. He glanced towards the central point of the camp; a large compound sat in the middle of the gathering of sheets and poles, low enough to sit below the masses of ancient oaks and redwoods, the roof looking like a greenhouse with no glass with how much shrubbery was smothering it in their unbridled growth.

Nobody seemed to be awake at the early hours of the morning, the camp completely devoid of life bar the two glitching skeletons almost silently making their way towards the compound. Orion knew this was never going to go well for him, from his lab work to his _very_ recent work in reconnaissance for the king, he knew that if any of it ever got out he’d be done for. The one uncertainty he had was _who_ would be the one to punish him for what he’d done, to deal retribution for those he had hurt in his drive to please the king, to keep what little siblings he had left safe. The only reason he was in his current position was a purposeful series of absolutely terrible decisions he’d made - from revealing his work to the others in the labs to volunteering to do spy work, he’d planned to be in his current position: hands bound and the freezing barrel of a gun pressed to the back of his skull in the chilly first hours of an autumn morning, being led to his almost certain death.

The sudden stop after hours of movement was jarring, the long since numbed pain in his legs having time to creep in whilst the taller skeleton held his hand to the old, rusted security pad. He cursed, the first time that he’d spoken since he’d bound the smaller error and hauled him from his small hideout in the trees. His voice was rough, a metallic echo laced over a thick accent that he’d describe as something distinctly dutch from what he’d learned while spending time in the surface universes. Yet the countless curse words that flowed from his mouth as he banged on the machine’s screen were soft, a stark contrast to the rough texture of his voice. It was intriguing to the scientist. He’d never spent much time outside having been cooped up in his personal little lab with only his test aides to keep him company, however long they lasted. Some had lasted months with little to no testing done on them until he’d had something significant enough to warrant risking another’s life, others had lasted only two to three days before he’d have to bury them. It was odd having someone else’s life balancing within your hands, having their blood long washed off yet still lingering on bones darker than the crusted mixture of cells and nutrients that had settled there. Now was his time of repayment for his sins, to be sentenced to death or a fate worse than what he’d ‘gifted’ to so many living, _breathing_ beings. He honestly hoped it would be a fate worse than death. It made him sick when he thought of taking the easy way out. He’d never given anyone else that way out, so why should he be graced with it when he was so much worse? He was just like **him** , ruthless and cruel and unfeeling. A monster, yet he couldn’t even call himself that, call himself the same as so many others around him.

He had no more time to dwell on his wrongdoings when the doors opened finally, the annoyed glare of the monster stationed there meeting the two of them. It was only trained on him, not the gunman behind him. No, that wouldn’t be fair. He was the one deserving of hate, deserving of _their_ hate. He’d made everything so hard for them. He’d hurt so many of their people, destroyed them, deformed them. Tortured them. All for some stupid endeavour into pleasing the king with supersoldiers. Those hadn’t existed for a long time. Not since **they** had left him there, not since he was abandoned. As much as he was still bitter about being left to be toyed with, used as an experiment, he couldn’t blame them. He was nothing but dead weight, with him they would’ve gotten caught. 

Maybe it was better that they left him behind.

They passed the monster wordlessly, not a sound made by either of them. He didn’t dare make any sort of sound, a deadman didn’t speak after all. His feet dragged as they walked, the large halls as cold as arctic waters, but he didn’t complain. All they did was walk. Step and step and step and step in a seemingly endless cycle. They were going to walk him to death before he even got to the torture part - or maybe this was just some creul and unusual torture method. He didn’t mind - well he did but who was he to talk? - they could do anything to him and he wouldn’t speak his mind, he’d just take it like he should.

He didn’t take notice of the sudden change in pace, soon coming face to face with cold stone and metal, blinking wearily as he stared at it. Oh. It was a door? Why did they stop here? It seemed a bit too grand to be any sort of cell or cage, and _surely_ they weren’t thinking of a trial. Now that would be a waste of time and energy on everyone’s part but his considering he deserved to have his time and energy wasted. What didn’t he deserve? Well, he could list a lot he didn’t deserve, but now was not the time. 

Three sharp knocks were all the warning he had before the doors opened and he was sent sprawling on the carpet. He could feel the glares that bore into the back of his skull, could tell that all they felt towards him was disdain. 

Sudden pain flooded him when something touched him, his entire body jolting and momentarily spasming as a wave of glitches washed over him, eyesight blurring for a few moments as he was set down on something hard - he couldn’t tell, when had everything gone dark? - and a voice broke through the haze of glitches: “I know what he’s done but maybe we should give him another chance?” The voice said, soft even as the words fractured and broke, a small bit of concern stirred into their tone. They went on shortly after, as if replying to someone he couldn’t hear. It was most likely he couldn’t see them, actually. “Don’t give me that look, Gunner. I know you went through the trouble of bringing him here to ‘enact justice’ and kill him, but is it really ethical? No. No it isn’t.”

“He could prove useful if we can get him to comply.” Came another voice, bland and monotone, deep too. It sounded.. Familiar. Both the voices he’d heard since coming into the room were familiar, yet he couldn’t place it. Maybe he could when his slowly returning sight decided he could.

It didn’t take long for sight to return, allowing him a good look at the room. There was a large table in the middle of the room, if not slightly offset to allow space for what he had to say was a presentation area. The entire room screamed _‘pitching your idea for a board of directors but they’re tactical planning experts on a budget’_. Honestly the old, malfunct, massive holographic map in the centre of the table, the outdated cheapskate school interactive whiteboard in the centre of the wall at the front of the room, the overly padded and comfortable chairs all screamed it in the worst way possible. Apart from the chairs. They were nice, and he had to be quite thankful for the comfortableness of them. Now he could comfortably watch the four figures in the room bicker about what to do with him.

There was, of course, a fifth figure that was trying to sneak out of the room quite successfully. He was decently tall, bones pristine and without a single scratch. He wore a lab coat embellished with the telltale symbol of a doctor, a stark green on the sterile white of the entire outfit that he could see. The gloves he wore, obviously some sort of rubber, held green accents but remained predominantly white. It made sense for what he assumed was a doctor, blood didn’t show up as well as it does on white on any other colour. 

His eyes moved away from him, landing on the next figure: A tall glitched skeleton that seemed stocked head to toe with guns and belts. His bones were a stark pitch black that would easily blend into any shadow, the electric blue of his tear markings a massive contrast to it and the dark rust red of the inside of his skull. His eyes were a mix of blue and white, narrow and imposing in their stare. The entirety of his look was somewhere between _‘war veteran that will actually filet you’_ and _‘I collect guns for a hobby but I’m not afraid to use them on you’_. He didn’t know which was more imposing, in reality. He could probably guess it was the latter but he couldn’t be sure. He could guess that was Gunner, as mentioned before.

The next figure was a mix between yellow, yellow and more yellow with a bit of black sprinkled in. He had more belts and buckles than was necessary for his outfit from the pale yellow tunic to the bright yellow gloves and cape accented the dark yellow, they seemed to border everything. The only thing without buckles was the black body suit he wore, and even then it was on thin fucking ice. His eyes were a bright yellow, almost sickly in colour if not toxic. All in all, it seemed like he was trying to push the fact that he was most definitely some sort of sunshine, and not really rainbows, person. From looks alone he could probably guess that this was the leader of the rebellion, Wish.

The two remaining figures were definitely familiar people he knew by look alone. Sure, they didn’t stand out too much but they were two people he was almost afraid to see again. 

One was tall, despite him always being the shortest of the twelve, and a lot more healthy looking than he was all those years ago. Honestly he was kind of impressed how such a sickly and starved looking kid had become someone who seemed like they would look death in the face and _taunt_ it. The dark yellow freckles peppering his face and the pale blue of his markings spoke otherwise, obviously not as bright as they should’ve been but it was uplifting to know they were even there. There was a time the other had no markings or anything really, barely even had functioning eyelights, his bones were pitch black compared to the dark grey they were now. His eyelights were definitely brighter though, bright rings of yellows compared to the pale almost black-ish yellow before. He.. seemed better, more grown up too with the red rimmed glasses circling his eyes. As much as Orion was glad for it, he couldn’t help being bitter towards him.

Even after all those years he still resented the name: 

“Yarn,” The voice started, “You know we can’t just _let_ criminals wander around the place.” That voice was light and rough, higher pitched than most voices he was used to hearing. Yarn snorted in response, an almost smug look settling on his face as he came up with only the best of counter arguments. “Wish, we’re _all_ criminals right now.”

The last figure was the one he hated the most, who he’d hated even all those years ago when they were still young. He was only slightly taller than himself even if it felt like he was so much taller (a few quick glances could easily tell you it was more of a posture problem than anything else). His bones varied from light greys to pearly off-whites, all smoothing out between gradients that would make any artist jealous at how well they worked. His eyelights cycled between bright shades of every colour one could think of, basic shapes the only ones that seemed to settle. Simple, unlike his clothing. Typical of an Ink, really, but who could complain? They had cool outfits. In all honesty, it was the second most simple outfit, the most simple going to Yarn with his hoodie and pair of sweats tucked into thick riding boots. He could always count on Acrylic being the one with extra flair and Yarn the one with none at all in favour of being comfortable. 

Orion yelped when something harshly tapped the bridge of his nasal cavity, surprise flashing over his indifferent expression once he realised how close the gunman was to his face. He gulped, leaning back as much as he could to limit the increasing glitches across his form from the proximity. 

“You got a choice to make, kid.” He almost growled, disdain on his face at the fact he was even considering agreeing to not hurt him. “Redeem yourself and help, or face justice and pay for your crimes.”

Why was it always a choice? He couldn’t make a decent choice his entire life. Who was to say he could now? Who was to say he couldn’t _start_ now? Well, he guessed he could find out how good he was at decision making starting now.


	2. Indecision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Orion is awkward and this purple guy is cryptic.  
> Also Yarn loves fluffy shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I finally fucking updated this woo.  
> I've had like no idea what to write but suddenly it's nearly midnight and I've figured out how to write after ranting about a self-indulgent X Reader fic I wanted to write and probably will write. Look out for that.

“U-Um..” _Wonderful, a perfect start Orion. The first thing you say and it’s ‘um’._ “I.. I uh.. Can I try the first option..?” Uncertainty laced his voice, reflected in the way he glanced around everyone nervously. Gunner moved away at the answer, nodding towards the two he most definitely didn’t want to talk to and.. Himself. Right, motioning for them to follow. He got up, legs almost giving out from stiffness and the ache filling them after so much use with only a small break. Waving off the concerned looks from the two, he used the table to pull himself up and support himself till he could walk without its help. Once that was dealt with, he was quick to follow.

He barely caught snippets of hushed conversation from the three as he trailed behind them, the cold of the hallways hitting him like a brick after being inside a warm room enough that he didn’t feel slightly chilly. It didn’t help that the uniform the empire had supplied (and he was _still_ wearing, mind you) wasn’t exactly made of thick or high quality material - it was as cheap as possible, all things considered, thin material with the lowest quality possible. He was surprised anyone was actually fine with wearing the shitty uniforms supplied by the empire, something they were required to wear at all times. It was laughable how much people were willing to put up with if it meant their family wouldn’t fall into destitution like everyone else. The country got more soldiers and the people could just barely scrape by with the money from their wages until they just suddenly died.

It was sickening how many families never got the dust or anything to remember their relatives by. No dust, no clothes, no trinkets.. Nothing. Any glimpse of happiness was crushed by the king himself. And yet, this place seemed to be oozing the very happiness and positivity that was stamped out everywhere else. A safe haven for those seeking comfort, seeking a life without fear or pain or sadness. It was odd walking through a camp where everyone would give him a look of questioning or just pure disdain that pretty much evaporated when they returned to what they were doing, a joyful look placed on their face instead.

He tried not to think about how they could just switch emotions so easily. 

The small drifting of hushed chatter from the trio in front of him instantly fell, Yarn spinning on his heel to look Orion dead in the eyes, an awkward smile meant to be comforting on his face. “Hey, uh.. We need to get you some new clothes. Are my old ones okay? They should fit but..” He trailed off, fiddling with his fingers nervously as he waited for an answer, which came in the form of a simple nod and hum of affirmation. Honestly, the glitch seemed a lot more nervous than he should be, but the scientist simply chalked it down to another change that happened during the long time they’d been apart. The last time he’d seen Yarn was when he was 20 after all, and now he was around 245. Still young for an immortal abomination, but not too young. At least they took him seriously now. 

Yarn nodded to the other two, a pale blue string wrapping around the scientist’s arm and pulling him along ever so gently towards a room, pulling him in and leaving him to stand awkwardly by the door - as you do in any unfamiliar place. 

He yelped when clothes were thrown right in his face, the door being slammed shut and the other skeleton shuffling awkwardly to sit on the bed in the room, pulling an almost ancient games device from under the pillow, flipping it open to play. “Change into those..” He spoke absently, already starting up a game to play. He didn’t often get to play, only every now and then when a bout of insomnia forced him awake if he wanted to evade the awful dreams that plagued him periodically.

Orion didn’t say much, simply getting to work changing. Pulling the first thing from the pile, he found it was a simple hoodie with an overly fluffy hood and inside, classic of the other in the room. He always did complain about clothes rubbing his bones awkwardly and irritating them if the material was slightly too scratchy. The other item was an old pair of jeans, a faded blue yet still not worn enough to be uncomfortable to wear, instead worn enough to be comfortable. He pulled off the pair of boots he had on, allowing him to tear off the worst uniform he’d ever had to wear faster than he’d ever gotten out of an outfit before. Not that that was saying much considering the last time he got out of clothes fast was when they were soaked to that bone, and that was one of the few times he did that. 

He was quick to pull the new clothes on, slipping his boots back on and sinking into the hoodie with a sigh. It was warm and honestly he could see why Yarn loved wearing these things so much. He carefully walked over, tapping his hand to get his attention, giving him a look that clearly conveyed how awkward he was and that he wanted to get this over with. Well, he wasn’t trying to go for that but he’s enough of an awkward fuck for it to be what he got instead of the normal ‘I want to get the fuck out of here’ look that any properly functioning adult would be able to convey.

He flipped his device closed, shoving it under the pillow and getting up, leading the scientist back off to another room, opening it to show the two they’d ditched earlier sitting at a table. Yarn was quick to take a seat next to Acrylic, the Ink motioning for Orion to sit down opposite them to which he did, looking down at the decently sized list sitting neatly on the surface before him.

“It’s a list of jobs that are free.” He began, regarding the short glitch with a pretty patient look he just didn’t deserve. “You can choose anything you like from it, but I’m unsure if anything will be of your… _interests._ ” 

The glitch flinched at the connotations of that tone, instead busying himself with skimming through the list of things he was either not qualified for or could just never do in a million years. After ten solid minutes of silently and awkwardly staring at the list, he risked a glance up at the three, being met with a very impatient face, a patient one and a lack of face being up due to someone deciding now was a good time to sleep.

He cleared his throat, croaking out his words quietly. “I uh.. I.. Can’t really decide what to do? Any.. Any suggestions?” He glanced between the two awake, shrinking down into himself nervously. The taller soldier huffed, pushing his chair back so he could get up. “We could always go visit Lock, he’ll probably know what’s best.

_Lock.. I’ve heard that name before, but where?_ He pondered, nodding and very quickly following after the gunman who seemingly didn’t even care if he could catch up. But he was glad to not have to be around the other two anymore given how awkward their relationship was and is after everything that’s happened. He cast a glance towards his hand, picking at the black, fingerless gloves covering a rectangular outline underneath them. It was their little secret, but he hoped they forgot if that was even possible.

The trip to the garden was a short one, the building - where he was guessing people lived in - not too far from the entrance at all. Tall statues of manticores sat at the sides of the large gate, vines snaking up the worn metal of the bars and accenting the mossy stone of the figures around it. The garden itself seemed to be chock full of life from plants to insects and fish too, he guessed from the gentle sounds of trickling water. It was.. Beautiful in all honesty, and he loved it. Now if only he could study some of the plant life…

He shook his head, jogging to catch up with the taller Error as they made their way to a shallow pool where a mass of purple and black robes sat, a skull lifting from them with a smile donned upon it, piercingly glowing eye sockets revealed as the skeleton opened his eyes. Joy filled his voice as he spoke. “Welcome, I’ve been expecting your arrival for the past week.”

He hummed, a hand coming up to silence Orion before he could begin to speak, as if he knew what he was going to say already.

“I know exactly what you need and I do believe that the doctor is in need of a new aid.” 


End file.
